


Give Me a Sign

by JhanaMay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartender Castiel, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Mechanic Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5123885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay/pseuds/JhanaMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chalkboard sign at the bar down the street from Dean's favorite bar is always good for a laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me a Sign

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I should stay off of Facebook when I'm supposed to be working on the next chapter of [Say Something](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4509762). This was posted as a prompt in the Destiel Forever group this morning and I just couldn't resist.

“Dude, why the hell do you park so far away?” Ash mutters, tripping over his own feet and almost shoving Dean into the chalkboard sign set in the middle of the sidewalk.

Dean resists shoving him back as he steps lithely to side, barely missing plowing into the chalkboard easel. Ending his Friday night in the ER before it even got started would be a travesty.  “Because I’d rather park in the lot than park my baby on the street. Don’t need some drunk asshole backing into her because they think they can parallel park.”

“Okay, okay. Then why can’t we just go in there?” Ash says, jerking his head toward the bar they just passed. He tugs his light denim jacket closer around himself. “It’s freezing out here.”

Dean pats his lined leather jacket with a smirk and glances back at the façade. The front of the bar is sleek black and white panels overlaid with gold lettering proclaiming _Decadence_ in an art deco font. Glancing though the tinted windows, he sees a long white marble bar under coned pendant lights. He shudders, imagining fancy drinks with silly names and Frank Sinatra playing in the background.  “Uh, no, absolutely not. It’s only another two blocks to _Willie’s_ , more than worth the walk for a beer and Zeppelin.”

Ash sighs and follows his friend to the dive bar down the street.

* * *

“Hey, man, check that out,” Sam says with a laugh. When Dean glances back, his brother is pointing at the chalkboard sign Dean almost took out two weeks ago. On the front is written “You’re making too many sober decisions.”

“Amen to that,” Dean responds with a chuckle. It’s been a long week at work and he plans to start the weekend with a bang. “You’d think with those moose legs you’d be able to walk a little faster, Sammy. Keep up.” He turns to continue heading down the block toward _Willie’s_.

“Wait.” Dean looks back again to see Sam standing at the window of the hipster bar, staring wistfully inside. “We should try this place out.”

Dean shakes his head forcefully. “Really, man? Not exactly my thing. Maybe you and Jess like sipping drinks with cookie crumbs around the rim, but I just need a bottle of beer and a pool table.” He continues walking, only getting five more feet before he realizes Sam isn’t following. “Come on, man.”

Sam turns forlornly and follows Dean down the block.

* * *

Today was a shitty day to end a really shitty week. The broken spark plug on that Corolla wasn’t his fault no matter what the customer says. Maybe if she’d brought the damn thing in for service thirty thousand miles ago, it wouldn’t have corroded to the engine block. His boss hadn’t been too pleased when Dean suggested that to her at the front counter, regardless of the truth of the statement. He finally backed down when Bobby threatened to take the money for repairs out of Dean’s paycheck and sent him into the back to start the long, tedious process of extracting the broken plug.

A beer and a round of darts at _Willie’s_ is just what he needs to make the day better. Muttering under his breath, Dean almost runs into the guy kneeling on the sidewalk in front of that stupid chalkboard sign. He’s putting the last touches on the sign, rocking back on his haunches to study his work. The sign says “Come in and try the worst Rum  & Coke that one guy on Yelp ever had in his life.”

Dean chuckles as he pulls up short to keep from flattening the guy. “True story?” he asks when the guy turns to look at him, startled by Dean’s sudden appearance.

Bright blue eyes twinkle with humor when he looks up at Dean from where he’s still kneeling in front of the sign. Dean has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from whimpering. Dark, tousled hair frames a face that Dean wouldn’t mind having look up at him from that position under very different circumstances. A smear of green chalk mars his otherwise rugged features, settling into the stiff dark stubble that covers his jaw.

“It is,” he says, his voice deep and mellow, tugging at something in Dean’s gut. He shrugs diffidently. “Can’t please everyone, I guess.” His chuckle is a low sound that reverberates deep in his chest. He dusts his hands on his black pants, leaving grubby green handprints down his thighs, and then holds his hand out to Dean.

Dean stares at the hand for a moment before he realizes that the guy is expecting Dean to help him up. When their palms meet, Dean’s callused grip grates across the man’s slightly softer hand. The man is agile enough that it only takes a slight tug to pull him to his feet, but Dean’s hand tingles slightly even after they let each other go.

“Come in and have a drink,” the man suggests, motioning toward the bar behind him.

He’s tempted for a moment, if for no other reason than to get to know the man in front of him. Dean’s eyes flick from man’s face to the slick exterior of the bar. “I, ah, thanks man, but I’m headed down the block to _Willie’s_. Nice place and all, but not really my scene.”

“Not your scene?” the man says with a squint, tilting his head slightly to the side like he doesn’t understand the words.

Dean feels his face get hot. He didn’t mean to insult the guy or anything. “Yeah, just, you know, I’ve got simpler tastes.”

“Ah, I see,” the man responds, looking as if he really wants to say that Dean is full of shit. “Well, okay then. Enjoy your drinking establishment, I suppose.” He turns and disappears into the bar before Dean can respond.

Dean stares after him for a moment. “Ah, shit,” he mutters, forcing himself to continue down the block.

* * *

Over the next few months, Dean makes a point to read the chalkboard sign in front of  _Decadence_ every Friday night as he passes on his way to  _Willie’s_ . Sometimes the signs are corny, but there have been some that made Dean laugh out loud. “When life gives you lemons, ask for salt and tequila,” is one of Dean’s personal favorites, followed by “I don’t want to get technical or anything, but according to chemistry alcohol IS a solution.”

Dean has run into the man with the messy sex hair and crystal blue eyes a few times, but they just exchange a greeting as Dean passes. Dean really wants to talk to him again, but the disappointment on the man’s face at the end of their last conversation stops him. More than once, though, he’s felt eyes on him as he continued down the block. He’s been too self-conscious to look back.

On the nights when the man isn’t out front changing the sign, and Dean is alone, he peers through the front window. Sometimes he doesn’t see the man at all, but several times he has been standing behind the bar, mixing drinks or leaning over to talk to a patron.

At least, Dean used to look in the window. He stopped even glancing at the window the night the man behind the bar saw Dean watching him and responded with a raised eyebrow.

* * *

The brisk chill of winter has faded slowly into spring, but there is still a bite to the air. Dean grabs his leather jacket from the passenger seat of his mint ’67 Impala and locks the doors before starting down the sidewalk toward  _Willie’s_ . He’s a few minutes late meeting Sam and Ash for end-of-the-week drinks.

From a block away, Dean can see that there’s quite a bit of writing on the chalkboard sign tonight. The sexy man with the chalk is nowhere to be seen. As Dean gets closer to the sign, he starts making out words. Dean’s always been in favor of short and sweet, so the longer sayings usually don’t appeal to him. He can make out the word “Wanted” at the top, bigger than the rest of the writing.

From ten feet away, the rest of the words become legible. "Wanted: Beautiful man in leather jacket to give us a chance. First beer is on us." Dean sucks in a breath, then stops and glances at the bar. From where he’s standing, he’s still too far up the street to see in the window. He glances down at the front of his leather jacket. Surely, the sign isn’t directed at him.

Dean inches down the sidewalk toward the sign, not sure what to make of it. Should he go in? He recalls the dark haired guy with the gravelly voice. He really wants to go in, but what if the sign isn’t directed at him? Undying mortification really isn’t in Dean’s plans for the day.

Coming up even with the front windows, Dean risks a glance. From where he’s standing, he’s pretty sure he can’t be seen from inside, but he still has a view of the bar. The sexy chalk guy is standing behind the bar fiddling with something just out of sight. Every few moments, he glances up at the front of the bar then looks away as if he’s disappointed.

Dean inches a few feet closer to the window, until he’s sure that he can be seen from the bar. He waits, holding his breath, until the man behind the bar looks up again. This time, his eyes seem to catch and hold on Dean through the glass. A grin flashes across his face and he reaches down to pick up what he was toying with behind the bar. It’s a bottle of beer. He holds the bottle up and tips it toward the window, one eyebrow raised.

Dean can’t stop the smile that breaks out. He walks forward, pulls open the front door of _Decadence_ , and steps inside.

Given how long he’s been walking past the place, the inside of the bar isn’t quite what he was expecting. There’s no lounge music playing, just the low whiskey soaked sound of Janis Joplin. Although the décor has a slight art deco feel, dark heavy wood combined with a simple black and white color scheme give the bar a clean, classic feel. In the far corner of the room, out of sight of the windows, there is both a pool table and a dart board. Both are styled in mahogany with black and white trim, not looking at all out of place.

Dean walks to the bar and slides onto the stool directly in front of the guy with the tousled hair. “Dean,” he says, holding out his hand.

The man smiles and slides the beer across the counter to him. “Castiel,” he returns.

Dean nods and takes a long swallow. The beer is a brand he hasn’t had before, but the taste is crisp and cool. He nods his appreciation.

“Not your scene?” Castiel asks, smirking in challenge.

Dean laughs and shakes his head. “I got a sign that I might be wrong.” He pulls his phone out and texts Sam and Ash to tell them there’s been a change of location for their night out.


End file.
